I'm Okay
by DarkeAngelle
Summary: I'm not all sure at all as to why I'm writing this. I guess it's just because it's four in the morning, I can't sleep, and I have nothing better to do. But I'm okay. I really am.


_I'm not all sure at all as to why I'm writing this. I guess it's just because it's four in the morning, I can't sleep, and I have nothing better to do. My mother has been nagging me for weeks about writing my grandfather a thank you note for coming to my graduation open house but, honestly, I don't want to thank him for that. I wasn't even there._

_I know you'd roll your eyes and punch my arm for being awake so late. You know I have insomnia and I can only sleep when you're here. And, well, you're not here. I can't sleep by myself in such a large bed with no other warmth to keep me safe. I know, I know, that sounds so weak and girly of me to say. It's so uncool of me. But it's true. You used to be my security blanket._

_I'm sorry. _

_I wish I had some sort of clock that would let me manipulate the time however I wanted to. I wish I could rewind it to that April third, one year, four months, and eighteen days ago. I know the number, exactly. Don't roll your eyes at me. I know I'm stupid like that. I keep track of things too much. That was always your pet peeve about me. I kept a day-by-day tally of our relationship._

_But you don't want to hear about that sort of stuff. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable with talking about how sorry I am and how much I miss you. I know that's not the reason I started writing all this either. So, I suppose I should stop with all the romantics._

_I've taken up a new hobby. You always told me to get one, so I finally found one that I liked other than the piano. You would think it's boring, but I like to paint now. Nothing in particular and nothing at all. I just like to make the colors clash onto the paper and contrast against each other like colors do in the natural world. I'm not taking classes or anything. I just stole some canvas and paint from Kid's house. _

_You know what, I'm doing good. I finally gave up sitting on the curb in the pouring rain or the blistering heat to wait for you to come back one day. I finally realized that you're never going to come back to me. I messed up too bad, I know. But I'm okay now. I've been venting out through my painting. Not that venting is a bad thing. I mean that in the nicest way possible. It's just that I've finally gotten over the fact that, no matter what I do or what I tell you, you're not coming back._

_I've tried seeing other girls, you know. I can't do it though. They're not the same as you. They don't get that little smirk on their face like you, they aren't smart like you, and they're just… they're not you. I know that there are plenty of fish in the sea. I know that I have more options and I know that I'm only some totally uncool eighteen year old who's writing a letter to a girl who won't even read it. I don't want to keep looking for "other fish" at all. I only want one fish, and that's you. Just you, Maka. No substitutions._

_I'm okay. I'm doing really okay. I know what I'm doing now. I'm doing good in school and, hey, maybe my new meister can make me into a Death Scythe. I don't care if they do or not, though. I don't really want that much fame anymore. It would be really cool, but… I just don't think I'm ready for that kind of responsibility. I don't think I have what it takes to be the next Death Scythe._

_But I'm okay, really._

_Please, don't worry about me. I'll pull through, I promise. Soon, all these letters will turn into nothing but little pieces of paper that just say "hi" on them or something like that. I'll stop bugging you with all of this emotional crap. I swear, it's going to stop one day. I just have to get over you eventually. I hope that eventually isn't very long._

_I composed a new song today. It's nothing special, really. Just another song. Just another ballad. Dedicated to you, of course. I mean… why would I dedicate it to anyone else? _

_There's no one else as cool as you. No one has your spark. No one can measure up to the way you would blush when I touched your arm or the way your fingers automatically grabbed mine when they were close. I remember the way you would talk bad about your dad, only to turn around and laugh at something stupid I did. I remember how you nitpicked through my iPod and my books, trying to find something of the same interest but finding nothing in common but Bach and Mozart. I remember the way your entire face would just light up like the sun whenever I came into the room._

_I miss that._

_I miss you. There, I said it. I miss you so, so much Maka. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms again. I just want you to be right here, right in front of me. I just… I want you back. Why did you have to leave me?_

_I'm... I'm not okay. I'm really just… I'm not okay. _

_I can't take this. I can't stand it. Everyday that goes on, I never get anything back from you. I never get a sign or a letter or anything. I don't even know if you remember me anymore. I remember you, we both know that. But do you remember me? Do you even like me anymore?_

_I'm not okay. I still have such strong feelings for you and they just won't leave me alone. It's like your ghost is constantly following me, just barely out of my reach. I know you won't come back, ever. I know I've lost you. I know I didn't fulfill my duty as your weapon. I didn't protect you like I should have and now I just sit here and wait for you to come back._

I put the pen down, hardly noticing that my hand is cramping. I look over at my clock, noticing that it's already five thirty. How did that little piece of paper take me an hour and a half to write?

I put on my coat and slip on my shoes, not bothering to change out of my pajamas. I shuffle out of my apartment, not wanting to take the car. I walk, enjoying the chilly autumn night. I walk past where she used to live with me and shivers shoot down my spine. I wish I could just knock on that door and see her there. But, no. She doesn't live there anymore. She's far away now.

I get to my destination before I even notice. My legs feel dead, dragging me to a little box with a bunch of papers inside. A sad smile graces my face and I can feel tears streaming down my face. I look down at the paper I'm holding. Down at the letter that I wrote for her. The letter I wrote for the love of my life.

I place it in the box and stand back up, staring at the dull gray stone of the grave marker. I don't read where it lists her name or where it lists her lifespan and the cause of her death. I just keep smiling, the tears still coming.

_I'm not okay. My life… my life is really uncool right now. It sucks. I wish you were here, even for a moment, to help me. I need you back._

I ignore those thoughts, choosing to pick my words more carefully and to say them out loud in the stillness of the dark as the bloody moon smiles cruelly down at me.

"I'm okay."


End file.
